The Grandmaster's Tale

I dismissed the thought as I heard the carriage pulling up outside the door. The board could have teleported like any normal powerful magicians, of course, or simply stepped through a portal, but no. They’d travelled to Dragon’s Den, then clambered into a carriage for the drive up to the school. Personally, I suspected it was a power play—they wanted to make us line up to greet them—although I thought it was rather pointless. Magicians didn’t need pomp and circumstance. A magician covered in shit is still a magician.

The door swung open. The seven board members stepped into the school.

I studied them, without making it obvious. Lord Archibald and Lord Pollux looked like older versions of their bratty sons. Lord Ashworth looked old enough to be their grandfather; Lady Colleen was so young I was surprised she’d been allowed to inherit the post without a fight. The remaining three were roughly the same age as Lord Archibald and Lord Pollux … I’d checked the records and noted they’d all been in school at the same time, although they’d been in different years. It didn’t mean they hadn’t been friends. It was rare for older students to spend any time with the younger ones, unless they were prefects, but family connections and aristocratic bloodlines spoke louder than any tradition. Not, I supposed, that it mattered that much. Three years between two people was an imponderable gulf at school, a minor issue—barely worth mentioning—in adulthood.

Mistress Constance leaned closer to me. “They wear their robes well, don’t they?”

I shrugged. The board had excellent tailors and a great deal more freedom when it came to deciding what they wanted to wear. They actually made the robes look respectable … I shrugged, dismissing the thought. They were the board and that was all that mattered.

Boscha stepped forward. “We greet you, Honoured Guests, and welcome you to our school …”

He went on and on in the same vein. I had to admit he was good at being a pompous windbag—it’s a skill few can master, to speak much without actually saying anything—but I had the feeling he was overdoing it. The truly powerful and secure don’t like people crawling in front of them, let alone cleaning their boots—hopefully metaphorically—with their tongues. It’s a good way to make sure no one dares to tell you something they think you don’t want to hear. Lord Archibald and Lord Pollux seemed to take it as their due, even as the others started to show visible irritation. I guessed the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

“Our prefects will show you to your rooms so you can freshen up,” Boscha finished. Naturally, he’d assigned Walter and Adrian to escort their fathers. “We will reconvene shortly for a formal gathering to welcome you to our school.”

I hid my relief as best as I could as the board members were shown out of their rooms, despite the growing tension. I’d spent the last week laying the groundwork for our coup, all too aware that the slightest mistake could easily lead to disaster. There were staff members I didn’t dare trust, members who wouldn’t have the slightest idea which way to jump when the shit hit the fan. I hadn’t been able to think of a way to get them out of the school either, not when Boscha expected us all to attend the gathering and kiss his ass in public. I suspected he’d told his prefects precisely what he wanted them to say to the board … I wondered, idly, if anyone would take it seriously. Anyone who’d spent any time in politics would know to be wary of what they were being told, particularly if it was what they wanted to hear.

Mistress Constance caught my eye. “We have the gathering in an hour,” she said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I said. I knew what she was really asking. “I’m ready.”

The tension in the air seemed to grow stronger as the hour ticked by. Boscha wasn’t taking any chances. He’d stationed his prefects on every floor, with strict orders to intercept students leaving the dorms and check their passes. Any student who didn’t have a very good reason to be outside the dorms would be in deep shit, or so he’d said. I knew he planned to brag to the board at how skilled his prefects were at keeping order, showcasing the peace and quiet as proof of their abilities. Personally, I doubted it would fool anyone for long. The board members had been students once, too.

But then, he can present it as noble blood keeping the commoners under control, I thought, as I made my way back to my quarters. And hope they don’t look too closely.